


Loveless Tendencies

by Marianelona



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Other Minor Character Appearances, Sociopath Gavin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-26 19:17:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3861577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marianelona/pseuds/Marianelona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gavin is a self-declared sociopath, completely void of loving, and has no problem stating this. Michael is more of a thrill-seeking optimist, taking an instant attraction to this stranger that has no problem telling it like it is. Gavin has set the challenge, and Michael is willing to take it up. </p>
<p>The challenge? To make Gavin see him as anything but just another person to manipulate in the bedroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> With exams looming, I needed something to keep me sane for the next month. This story is that something.
> 
> I'll establish that I can't give you regular updates yet, due to exams being the bane of my life. I'll also establish that I'm a science student, and I'm not really educated in the whole writing aspect? For that, I'd appreciate any feedback. I'd love to improve, so constructive criticism will earn you my undying love.
> 
> Special thanks to:  
> Sami, for giving this an English major's review for me.  
> Maddy, for being probably bored to death listening to me talk about this all week.  
> Lydia, for being both cute as dicks and also my number one fan.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

A pair of cool green eyes finally made contact with Michael's brown ones. "Why do you want my number?"

"'Cause," Michael stated. It was a question he hadn't considered prior to actually going ahead with his plan of _'get that cute guy's cell',_ but it was one that he was definitely thinking about now. This guy didn't look like he was about to make things easy, but knowing that only propelled Michael into listing his reasons. "You're cute, I'd like to take you out to dinner sometime, and all that cliché shit."

The reasons fell on seemingly disinterested ears. A brief moment passed where the stranger maintained eye contact, then it was gone, those shallow eyes soon averted. Instead, the stranger took up idle movements, swirling around the melted cream in his mug of coffee with a partially submerged finger. It irritated Michael.

"What? You're too good for me, or something?"

Michael could handle rejection well. Whether it was the honest excuse that they weren't gay, that they weren't interested, or that they were taken, Michael wasn't one to push at a car with no wheels, or rather a person with no interest. What he didn't like, however, was to be dismissed as lesser.

That was the impression he was getting from this good-looking stranger with the distinct British accent that would drive Michael's lust wild if it wasn't for the fact that he could maintain excellent control over his desires. Instead, he covered them up with a glare and a matching frown.

"That's not what I said," the stranger asserted.

Again, that tone.

The accent was one that made Michael certain a being above had been overzealous with the hotness appeal of this particular guy, but the voice was monotonal. Lacking in emotion, leaving words stranded without clarification. It left Michael confused.

Not only that, Michael was quickly losing his patience.

"Then what's your fucking dealio, dude?"

Despite the crudeness of his words, they seemed to be working. The stranger had stopped stirring the liquid in his mug, an act that had infuriated Michael to the point he was tempted to knock the mug to the floor in one swooping motion.

"You should know-"

Already Michael was preparing his reaction. Eyes were held in position, ready to roll the moment they needed to. A middle finger wavered slightly, kept within a closed fist but ready to fire up the moment Michael willed it to. And at the tip of his tongue, Michael had a colossal amount of curses, ready to drive this stranger onto the first flight back to England.

"-I'm a total sociopath."

Michael hadn't expected that, nor could he comprehend it. The preparations faltered immediately.

But the silence was what Gavin had expected. Of course, being the suave fellow he had also declared himself to be, he didn't need to witness this curly-haired man's reaction to that bombshell. The silence was enough.

The silence ignited a compulsion to emphasise things even further.

"I can't love others and I won't love others," Gavin began. It was said simply, nothing more than a mere fact to Gavin at this point. It was the follow-up to this rehearsed expression that ignited a sense of adrenaline flowing through his veins. "People say I manipulate... They're probably right."

Gavin would never grow tired of hearing that last sentence spoken, thrust into the faces of the innocent who didn't recognise a manipulator just by the way he sat in a coffee shop on a Sunday morning.

He loved witnessing the expressions of those who heard this. To watch and wait to see which expression would grace their pretty little faces. Sometimes it was a combination of two or three. Occasionally, it was more. The possibilities were endless, the unique ways their faces could twist up into a look of utmost disgust and horror.

"Alrighty then."

A _shrug_.

A shrug was all this guy had to give him.

If Gavin didn't pride himself on being an emotionless monster, he'd have scowled at the man and demanded a better reaction. The alternative to the stormy frown was to simply let his lips curl upwards into the smallest of smirks.

"That doesn't bother you?" Gavin questioned, slowly, as if he were talking to a child.

"Nah," Michael said, a simple shake of the head to accompany the response.

There was a tension in the air by this point, both parties sensing the way their words sounded so clearly to the other, despite the dull buzz of chatter present in the room.

Whereas before Gavin hadn't cared to look his admirer in the eyes, he was now struggling to divert his gaze away. He'd experienced many a person in his lifetime, but this particular one had something new to offer. And Gavin just loved fresh offers.

Michael, on the other hand, found his curiosity rising. The vibes he got off the stranger were ones a thrill-seeker couldn't deny. He'd asked many a guy for a cell number in his lifetime, but this particular one had something exciting about him. And Michael was a sucker for excitement. 

"Nah?" Gavin reiterated.

"Nah, 'cause I know it's fucking _bullshit_."

Gavin was renowned for masking expressions. That known identity of his couldn't stop the grin that instantly spread out wide. He was loving every minute of this, revelling in it all. For a somebody who looked like a nobody, this stranger was a gold mine of new interactions.

Michael imitated that same expression. He displayed a broad smile, raised his eyebrows a tad, and rolled back his shoulders. "You really fucking believe that?"

Apparently he did, indicated by the slight nod.

"C'mon, man, everybody loves somebody. Whether it be your mom, your bro, or your buddy, everybody loves somebody."

With that said, Michael was losing him.

The attention span of the stranger was evidently wearing thin when he picked up the mug and lifted it to his lips, eyes that had displayed intrigue replaced by their dull look once more.

Michael's voice rose a tad higher. "It's human nature, yeah?"

The empty mug was then slammed down onto the table. A screeching noise began to sound as Gavin pushed his chair out, preparing to leave. 

"Whatever you say," was his tardy reply, though it was clear to Michael that the guy wasn't impressed.

And Gavin wasn't impressed.

Despite knowing this stranger for less than five minutes, he'd found himself expecting greater things from him. He'd displayed promise, that feisty attitude which encompassed his body stature and manner of speaking had tricked Gavin into thinking he'd met somebody different from the rest. 

Moods could swing quickly, and Gavin had gone from amused to utterly bored in less than a second.

But, if that was the case - that the red-headed stranger had proved himself to be ordinary and boring - why did Gavin find himself digging into his pockets to retrieve a pen, just so he could scrawl down a number on a napkin?

It didn't matter. Gavin shoved the napkin into Michael's hands regardless.

"Little something for you, potential fuck buddy."

"Hey, man, I'm all for fucking as much as the next guy," Michael tailed slowly behind after an apparent sociopath who was now leaving. "But if you could just call me Michael, that'd be great, thanks."

The patrons in the coffee house apparently didn't take too kindly to hearing the phrase 'fuck buddies' in public, turning to stare a little too fervently for Michael's liking. It had resulted in his harsh-sounding words.

"Alright, no need to get all minged off about it," Gavin responded coolly, almost regretting the napkin gesture.

Gavin was at the door now.

Michael was hasty in prolonging this.

"So..." Michael began, "I'll text you?"

Gavin turned to give Michael another one of his signature smirks as he pushed open the door. "If you're wanting to play, then sure, love."

With a wink, he was gone.

 

* * *

 

Even long after Gavin had left, long after the coffee house had closed, and long after Michael had gone home, he still wasn't sure how to feel about Gavin.

All he knew was that he felt challenged.

Michael liked that.

Michael liked Gavin.


	2. Chapter 2

This morning had been agonising for Michael.

He'd arrived at the office as per usual. Early enough that he'd clocked in just on time, but late enough that his boss faced him down with a cool stare as Michael navigated his way round the desks of his colleagues and slammed his briefcase down onto his table. With the way he'd met the gaze of his boss, who had been in an unpleasant mood with Michael since he'd lectured him about swearing at a client, Michael didn't dare step a foot out of line.

It was a shitty job. All he did was ring businessmen and try to entice them into buying over-priced items that they didn't need. But, it still paid well, despite that it was mind-numbing. His colleagues were friendly enough, and he'd worked there long enough that they could all chat just fine with each other. Plus, it was a _job_. With the news constantly droning on and on about what an economical wreck the country was in, Michael wasn't about to earn himself a ticket to the homeless shelter.

Still, if there was one time Michael had briefly considered getting himself fired, it was so that he could pour out everything he was bottling up to Geoff.

He maintained control.

Michael had continued to take those boring work-calls, wooing those clients in his faux professional voice, but his eyes had kept ricocheting to the clock. At one point, Michael had experienced delusional thoughts, convinced that the clock was taunting him, what with the way those hands ticked so slowly. Realising that he was beginning to go a little stir-crazy, Michael had taken to drumming his fingers against the wood of his desk. That in itself was a bother for his colleague.

Ryan was a nice enough guy. Michael didn't know too much about him, though he'd listened to a few gossips whispering about him being a psycho or something along those lines. Michael wasn't the type to pay much attention to rumours, knowing he'd had his fair share about him circulate during high school, but something in those eyes of Ryan did have a slightly insane look to them. In terms of being desk-buddies, however, Ryan was fine. The two had never had a problem before. Until today.

“Stop that,” Ryan demanded, after hanging up his call. He'd spent the entirety of his conversation on the phone glaring at Michael, who'd been so caught up in the tune he was tapping out that he hadn't taken note of the numerous mouthing attempts.

Michael immediately stopped, pulling his hands away from his desk and sitting on them. He'd then muttered out a soft apology to Ryan, now conscious of how frustrated he looked, before turning to stare in the other direction. It was in doing so that he spotted Geoff's movements, and Michael considered it a blessing. He didn't want to get on the wrong side of Ryan by hanging around any longer.

He hoped that it looked like a business matter, the reason why he'd scampered off so quickly after Geoff. Michael worked in sales, Geoff worked in accounting, so although the two were situated on opposite sides of the rooms, they had reasons to associate with each other.

“Figured you'd follow me in here,” Geoff said, unscrewing the lid to a jar of coffee granules and heaping a big spoonful into an empty cup.

It was ironic the way things worked out. Michael had spent his entire morning wanting to talk to Geoff and now that the perfect opportunity had presented itself, he was no longer sure what to say.

“Coffee?” asked Geoff, jostling the jar in hand.

Michael nodded, paused to reconsider, then changed his stance. “Nah, boss'll kill me.”

“Oh yeah, you're not exactly in King Gus' good books, now are ya?”

“Nope,” Michael responded whilst Geoff gave him a smirk. “Apparently swearing at clients is 'rude' and makes for a 'bad reputation'. Well, if the fucking guy hadn't been such an impossible prick, maybe I wouldn't have to tell him where he could shove his opinion.”

“I'm guessing your sensible and sophisticated choice of location was up his ass?”

“You betcha. He hung up quick after that. Didn't even get the chance to tell him-”

“That you loved him, wanted to marry him, and have five kids all named Bob?” Geoff interrupted, the smile turning into a grin.

It was a reference back to their old pranks, where the two of them had discovered that the phone in the unused office at the back of the building still worked. Their antics of slinking off to that office whenever they could with a list of numbers they intended to call hadn't lasted long; management soon had registered complaints, and they weren't happy. The office crimes had never been traced back to Geoff and Michael, luckily enough, and the memory remained more than a year later as their inside joke.

“Don't be silly, Geoff. What reputable salesman would ever say such a thing to a client?” Michael said, putting on the snottiest of snotty voices he was able to muster. It sounded similar to the voice he used to imitate Gus.

The kettle gave a whistle and Geoff turned around, taking the kettle by the handle and pouring the boiling water into his cup. He continued to listen to Michael.

“Nah, but seriously. That guy? Total asshole. Forget his opinion, he oughta just stick his head up his own ass and call it a day,” Michael finished.

Geoff gave a nod, despite no longer looking directly at Michael. He understood the point Michael was making. Take any man with wads of cash stored in a bank somewhere and they tended to think they were better than everyone else. Geoff considered himself lucky in the fact his work was situated with numbers rather than people, though he doubted he'd ever experience as many problems as Michael did working in sales.

“Hey, didn't you once work in customer services?” asked Geoff, recalling an old conversation.

Michael had to laugh. “Yup,” he drawled.

“Fuck me, dude,” Geoff curled his fingers around the handle of the cup. “Who in their right mind would put you in charge of talking to people?”

“The same people who couldn't get my God-damn name right. They kept calling me 'Mike', Geoff. Fucking ' _Mike_ '.”

Having turned around, Geoff could see the expression on Michael's face. He looked genuinely pained. “That sucks."

“You bet your ass it sucked,” announced Michael, following Geoff over to the small table located in the corner of what was really just a cramped communal kitchen.

Geoff gave another nod, but said nothing. Instead, he took a careful sip of his coffee. Years of scalding his mouth on the stuff allowed for Geoff to take larger swallows after that initial sip.

Drinking more than half of the coffee in less than a minute, Geoff was satisfied. With no coasters on the table already, and with laziness at such a peak that he didn't feel like getting up out of his uncomfortable seat to grab some, Geoff began to slide a few sheets of paper towards himself. They'd been left there by somebody earlier, most likely unwanted trash that the printer had spewed up, but Michael suddenly became possessive of them. Michael lunged for the papers, seizing them up.

Geoff raised his eyebrows whilst Michael aligned the papers, holding them in front of his torso.

“In case the boss comes in,” he explained.

“Ah."

Geoff didn't think it would work, Gus being suspiciously observant for a mere human. Still, if Geoff had learnt anything when he'd wandered into Gus' office earlier to talk about a spreadsheet, it was that Gus was preoccupied in typing up whatever drivel he was working on. 

“Don't think it's all that necessary right now. King Gus busy writing us all a new juicy rendition of 'My Robotic Love'.”

“Oh, no fucking way! Can't wait for that one," Michael said. "Whose turn is it to do the read-through?”

The entire office could put their differences aside for a dramatic read of Gus' attempts at poetry. Kudos to Ryan, for not only being skilled at sales, but also at hacking into computers to retrieve files.

“Uh, lemme think… Miles, maybe?”

Michael gave a groan, dropping the papers to the table.

It wasn't that he disliked Miles or anything, just that if Michael had to assign the title of least favourite person in the office to somebody, he'd assign it to Miles. Some said it was due to a rivalry over who sold the most pointless stuff. Michael and Miles both agreed, unbeknownst to the other, that it was due to their war in eating challenges. Of which Michael prided himself on coming out victorious every time.

“Anyway,” Geoff was inclined to skirt past Michael's potential grumbling about the last challenge, involving saltine crackers and a Miles who was abstinent that he was the winner, despite Michael protesting that Miles had sprayed out more cracker than he'd eaten. “You gonna tell me this thing or what?”

“The thin- _oh_!” Caught up in a minor internal grumble about a distaste of Miles, Michael had forgotten what he'd originally come into the break-room to say. “Right, you ready for this?”

“Ready as I'll ever be.”

“I met this guy at the weekend.”

Immediately there was a grin spread from ear-to-ear across Geoff's face. “Oh really?” he mused, twirling half of his moustache around his index finger. “Cute as dicks?”

“Oh yeah, cute as dicks. No, the cutest of dicks. The cutest of all the cutest dicks in the universe of cute dicks!”

“Nice going, buddy!” Geoff said, releasing his tuft of moustache to high-five an enthusiastic Michael.

“Seriously Geoff, he was... _Damn_ , he was definitely up there. Up there with some of the hottest fucks I've ever laid eyes on. Guy could be a model with a face and body like that.”

“Or a pornstar,” Geoff mused.

“Model, pornstar, who gives a fuck? I'd do him.”

“Then do him.”

“I will,” Michael stated.

Geoff wiggled his eyebrows. “So, what? Did you at least get his number?”

“Please, Geoff, I'm not an amateur. I don't pussy around and admire people from a distance. I go right up to them and damn tell them that they're cute and I want their cell.”

Michael was brutally honest, and Geoff knew this. Heck, everybody knew this. Anybody whom Michael encountered were usually quick to learn that Michael didn't bite his tongue. He'd say whatever was on his mind, and didn't tend to hold any shame. Michael had never needed to come out of the closet, simply because he'd never been cooped up in there. Geoff admired all of this. 

“Yeah, alright, I know you're not an amateur. Don't get your fucking panties in a twist there, _Mike_ ,” For that last word, Geoff purposely drew out the syllables, watching in earnest as Michael scowled.

“Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare, _Geoffrey_.”

Michael had decided two could play at that game.

In other circumstances, Geoff would have continued with the taunting. He'd have kept the game running long enough that Michael would storm off in a huff, ignoring him for the rest of the day, but all the whilst signing up Geoff's work email for spam. But, there was news. He'd watched Michael all morning, frantically trying to master the art of sign language in order to signal something, and now Geoff was eager to hear what all that fuss had been about.

“Alright, let's cut the bullshit, buddy. You get his number or not? That guy is what you've been wanting to tell me about all morning, yeah?”

Michael nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I got his number. Yeah, he's what I've been wanting to talk about.”

It earned Michael another high-five from Geoff. “Nice!”  

Then, a fleeting thought crossed Geoff's mind, derailing him from what he was originally going to say. He squinted at Michael, staring intently. It caused Michael to feel uneasy.

“What?” he questioned, shifting awkwardly in his seat.

Geoff didn't respond, continuing to observe Michael. His eyes glanced him up and down, before the sound of the door opening caused them to flicker over in that direction. Seeing that it was just one of their colleagues, and not a grumpy Gus, Geoff straightened up with his analysis of Michael complete.

“Oh, nothing,” Geoff replied, noting how Michael raised an eyebrow and didn't look too pleased to have been momentarily inspected and then left in the dark over what it was about. “Just… You've got a pretty good radar for recognising gays.”

Michael had his mouth poised open to explain that he didn't, that just gay guys tended to be hotter as a rule , but a newcomer beat him to it.

“Don't you mean _gaydar_ , Geoff?” 

From somewhere in the distance, Michael swore he heard Burnie slamming his fists onto the desk and yelling at Barbara. Geoff was in unison with Burnie's reaction, immediately blurting out for Barbara to shut the fuck up.

Michael, on the other hand, was stifling a chuckle. He watched as Barbara cackled at her own bad pun and delved into the refrigerator to take out a tub of pasta before she walked over to the table they were sat at.

“No,” Geoff stated, sliding down in his seat and hooking his legs around the chair that Barbara was trying to pull out. “You can't sit with us. You're not allowed. People who make bad puns have to go sit in the corner of fucking shame.”

“But this is the corner of shame!” Barbara protested. “It's got you two losers in it!”

“Barb, fuck off, can't you see me and Geoff are having a little broskie bonding time over here?” Michael joked, mentally thanking Barbara for a pun that he intended to incorporate into equally-as-bad pick-up lines later.

“Fine then,” Barbara pouted, releasing the back of the chair so that she could cross her arms. “You guys suck big giant dicks, and I'm gonna find Lindsay and have girlskie bonding time with _her_.”

Barbara stuck out her tongue, hurrying off to her left.

“Other way, Barb,” Michael called out.

Barbara slid to a stop, and with little grace, spun around on her heels and stormed off in the opposite direction. “Thanks,” she grunted, pushing open the door and departing the break-room.

Once Michael heard the door click shut, he jumped right back into their conversation.

“It's just fucking luck, Geoff, I don't know how to explain it. Honestly, I just see a cute guy, and I'm all for going straight up to him and finding out first-hand whether he's into taco or sausage, y'know?”

“Right, right, gotcha. So what's the big deal? I mean, you often go out and meet some dude at a weekend. What's so big you pissed off Ryan by being an irritating fuck?”

Michael froze. “I pissed off Ryan?”

“That's the word on the street,” Geoff pulled his mobile out of his shirt pocket, unlocking the screen. He navigated his way to a certain text message, then flipped the phone around so Michael could read.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Michael muttered, eyes quickly scanning the short sentences of the text and registering what they meant.

“I wouldn't worry about it,” Geoff said, switching his phone off and shoving it back into his pocket. “It's just gossip, I seriously doubt Ryan's pissed at you.”

“Oh no. No, no, no. You don't understand, he _is_.”

“He is?” Geoff perked up, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. He had purposely added himself to the messaging list of the office gossips, just so he could find some amusement in the crap they came up with. But to hear that some of their crap had an element of truth in it? Now they were talking.

“Yeah. I didn't mean to, man, I swear. I was just tapping away at the desk, y'know, being an idiot.”

It wasn't at all as interesting as Geoff had hoped. He removed his elbows from the table, going back to his former slouched position against the back of the chair.

“Eh, maybe he's a bit annoyed at you. Seriously doubt he's already ordered a headstone with your name on it, like. Plus, if Ryan was going to kill you, my bets are on he'd hand-craft that shit.”

Michael had to agree with Geoff there. If Ryan was as crazy as people made out, Michael would also place money that he'd be the type to pour hours into crafting a headstone. Probably with names engraved in cursive too, Michael decided.

If the text was to be believed (which it wasn't), then Michael only had five more minutes left to live. And if that was the case, he didn't want to take his weekend recollections to the grave with him.

He took a leaf out of Geoff's book, extracting his own mobile from his trouser pocket. The flip phone wasn't nearly as impressive as Geoff's iPhone, nor did it do as many fancy things, but Michael stuck by its usefulness. The only downside to it was that once it was fully turned off, it took far too long to switch back on.

Eventually, he'd evaded the flashing screen of an old phone starting up, had heard the obnoxious ringtone, and was bringing up his contacts list. Scrolling down through the entirety of it, Michael finally arrived at what he was after.

“Look.”

Geoff took the phone from Michael's hands, refraining from making a comment about Michael's dire need for an upgrade. “What am I looking at?” he asked.

“The question mark.”

He'd overlooked it before, but now Geoff saw it. “Is that his number?”

“Yeah.”

“Why the fuck is it a question mark?” Geoff queried, though he was sure he already knew the answer.

“Never got his name.”

“Ah,” Geoff handed the phone back to Michael. “Not the best way to start out a relationship, now is it?”

“Who the fuck ever said anything about dating?” Michael retorted, having closed the phone but keeping it within his grip. “As far as I know, all this guy was interested in was fucking.”

Geoff's eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Knew that'd get your attention,” mused Michael, grinning at Geoff's somewhat expression. “Fuck buddies. This guy mentioned being fuck buddies, or some shit like that.”

“Well then,” Geoff cleared his throat, uncertain as to how to respond. “Uh, fun?”

Michael gave a shrug. “The whole conversation was a confusing mess from start to finish.”

“You know what? I don't doubt that. Does he know your name?”

Michael nodded.

“Does he have your number?”

Michael shook his head.

“Have you called? Texted?”

Again, Michael shook his head.

Geoff blew out a mouthful of air, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “You gonna?”

“No, Geoff, I just got his cell because I fucking felt like it. Of course I'm going to fucking text. I just… don't know how to.”

“Asking his name would be a start,” Geoff said, biting back the sarcasm. Michael looked like he was in a dilemma, and wouldn't appreciate the friendly banter.

Michael wasn't enthralled by the suggestion. “Eh, you think?”

“You gonna refer to him as 'question' mark forever?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of 'hot as dicks guy'.”

“Mm, not that I don't approve of your choice or anything, but that ain't gonna cut it. Gotta find out his name at some point, Michael. Or are you just gonna leave it there and be done with it?”

Michael sighed and shrugged. “I don't wanna be done with it. I just don't get how I can do it.”

“Could always wait for him to text you first.”

“Nope, couldn't. He gave me his number, didn't take mine.”

By this point, Geoff was frowning. “This entire thing is a fucking mess.”

“Tell me about it,” Michael agreed.

After a minute of thinking had gone by, Geoff had a preposition.

“Alright, here's the deal. For all we know, that fucker could've given you any old number. Therefore, you might as well fucking man up and text 'cause you sure as hell ain't progressing forward with whatever fucking you wanna do with this guy by just sitting around here and thinking about it.”

“But what the fuck do I text?”

Geoff never got the chance to respond.

Whilst the two guys had been deeply engrossed in Michael's problem, Gus had tapped out the finishing word to his masterpiece, saved it, and had then surveyed the office. Having noticed two empty seats, of which belonged to the troublemakers of the office, Gus had stealthily made his way to the the unofficial headquarters of Geoff and Michael, otherwise known as the break-room. By the time Geoff and Michael recognised Gus was on the move, it was too late. He was already at the door.

“Jones, Ramsey. You know, money's getting a bit tight around here. Might have to start letting some people go. Now, I wouldn't  _dream_ of letting go two of my _best_ employees, but those cleaners? Well, I'm sure my best employees wouldn't mind doing a little extra work scrubbing those bathrooms, huh?” Gus took delight in the horrified looks of his employees. “Get back to work. I'm not paying you to sit around all day chatting about your nerdy lives.”

In that tense moment, Michael felt any sliver of remorse he'd had about posting Gus' cringeworthy poetry on the internet vaporise. 

The two were on their feet immediately.

 

* * *

 

Taking his seat back down at his shared desk, Michael was mildly relieved that it hadn't been compromised by the addition of tacks, or whatever other evil plan Ryan could have conjured up. Rather, Ryan gave a small smile to Michael upon his return, a black handset pressed up against his ear.

“No, no. I guarantee you won't find a better deal for this anywhere else. In fact, I'm willing to make you a deal of...” Ryan's voice faded away as Michael immersed himself in his thoughts.

With his hands over the keyboard, from where Gus' office was situated, it looked like Michael was working. Sat like this, he could agonise over what he was going to do.

 

* * *

 

There.

Michael had done it.

_Send_.

It had taken more than an hour of deliberation to do, but he'd finally created the perfect text to send to the guy he'd met yesterday. Now that Michael reflected upon it, it had been a waste of time to spend so long thinking and come up with: 'Hey, it's Michael.”

Still, at least now he'd conquered _that_ mountain, he could focus on his work. Whilst he'd been in the break-room with Geoff, the twenty minutes hadn't been kind to his workload. He'd returned to numerous missed calls, and a pile of memos in his inbox tray from the receptionist. The hour he'd spent in silence, pretending to be working, had resulted in a similar effect.

Michael tried to get to work.

He decided that the best thing to do right now was to pick up his handset and start returning some of those missed calls. His mood was somewhat average, irritability dulled after a prolonged period of thinking, and he could handle some men who hadn't taken too kindly to not having their every need attended to immediately.

“Hi, this is Michael Jones of-”

The man on the other end of the line didn't even let Michael finish his rehearsed line before beginning to vent about the 'bad customer service'.

Michael rolled his eyes as he began the typical routine of pretending to be apologetic. “I'm terribly sorry about that, Mr. Barnes, I was engaged in attending to another customer's needs when you called.” Otherwise known as Michael was prioritising his own life over his client's demands.

 

* * *

 

After what felt like forever discussing prices with Mr. Barnes' on the phone, Michael's leg registered a vibration.

Glancing down, Michael saw the screen of his flip phone light up blue with the pixel icon of a text message. With care, Michael pressed his shoulder against the phone so he could continue talking to the haughty businessman whilst both of his hands were now free to use the mobile.

He'd flipped up the screen and taken himself straight to his messages far too quickly to register any sort of nerve. There was no brooding over whether it would or would not be a message from the guy in the coffee shop. It would have been pointless if he had, anyway.

**?:** _Is this a booty call?_

Michael assumed it was a joke, and that interpretation had him struggling to keep a straight face.

He was swallowing back the giggles, almost losing the phone in the process as it slid out from underneath his ear and began to fall. Michael's reaction time was quick enough that the speaker had no idea what had happened and continued to chatter away oblivious, but Ryan still saw and gave perplexed looks at the handset, Michael, and the mobile in his lap.

Michael didn't delay in his reply.

**Michael:** _Give me your name first, then we'll talk._

Much to Michael's shock, the response was instant. He'd waited a good twenty minutes for that first text back, but the screen of his phone didn't even manage to fade to black before it was buzzing again.

**?:**   _It's Gavin._

 


End file.
